


(Caution!) The Beverage (And Barista) You're About To Enjoy Is Extremely Hot

by Science_Cat



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Band, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff, I deeply apologize for the title of this fic, M/M, More characters if I continue this, Peterick, You know you love them, don't lie to yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Science_Cat/pseuds/Science_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anything else?” he asks. “No thanks. I have a question, did you sit in a pile of sugar?” The man asks. Patrick’s face once again heats up with embarrassment. “No? Did I-” he swiftly checks behind himself. “Cause you have a pretty sweet ass,” He says smirking, eyes fixated on Patrick's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Caution!) The Beverage (And Barista) You're About To Enjoy Is Extremely Hot

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a bit different from my others. I was inspired by the beautiful graphics in "The Vanishing Of Ethan Carter" as well as the intriguing translation of Pas De Cheval and well, kind of just went off and took this in a coffee shop AU route. This is just an idea, and I don't know if I'll take this anywhere. Also, I really love bad pick-up lines and had to write some into something. As always, excuse any errors, and I hope you enjoy. Feedback is welcome.

Patrick's lived in Cedarville as long as he can remember. It’s practically the only thing he’s ever known. The small town he has grown up to love was surrounded by sheer cliffs, and it dwells on the towering banks above the St. Pierre River. The route to the town itself is a bit of a journey. You’d have to take a train car over the rickety bridge above St. Pierre River, pale and washed from years of rainfall. The bridge had the most beautiful view one’s ever seen. Miles of forest stretching from either side of the river cutting in between. And if you got there at the perfect time, you could see the sun dip below the waterline in the far distance. It would cast a light golden film over the river. This was especially beautiful in the autumn, where the forest cast brilliant shades of gold, orange, red, browns. The air would have a crisp bite to it, but the sky would often be transparent as cellophane. Cedarville was a mining town, hidden deep in Pas de Bassin de Cheval. Which translates to “No Horse Basin”. It’s meaning comes from the town's first settlers. Back when they had horses, the forest was so thick it was often unnavigable by horse, hence the name “No Horse Basin”. The Jeunesse Mountain Range loomed over the basin itself and added to the surrounding beauty. The town isn’t accessible by car, so if you had to get somewhere you either had to walk, bike, and some even had horses within the town, ironic as it sounds. The community was surprisingly small seeing that the town had a huge dam on the river, the kind of dams that cost a couple thousand dollars. Everyone knew everyone in some way, and if there was someone new in town, news spread like wildfire. The remote town, however, started slowly growing again back to the thriving place it once was. There were new visitors, once every two or so weeks. Which meant Patrick’s dead-end job and life was starting to pick up. And as much as Patrick loved his tiny town, he was growing tired of it.

Loud, sudden pounding at his bedroom door roused Patrick from sleep back into reality. “Patrickkkk, wake the fuck upppp.” The familiar muffled voice of no one other than Joe cut through the door. Attempting to prop himself up, the door swung open. “Dude! You can’t just barge in here, I could’ve been naked!” he groggily scolded at Joe. “I’ve been friends with you long enough, you should know I don’t give a shit,” He says, plopping down in a random chair by the window. “Now get your ass out of bed, we’re opening at the cafe today,” Joe says reminding him of the time. He looks over at the clock on the nightstand reading 7:00 am. “Waking up this early should be illegal,” He says, groaning into the pillow. “C’mon, get ready, you take forever. Or does mommy need to dress you?” Joe mocks. A minute later, Patrick forces himself out of the warm comfort of his bed and throw a pillow into Joe’s face before walking into the bathroom. “That was weak!” He shouts from the other room. Mouth full of toothpaste, he walk into the bedroom momentarily and flips Joe off. Around 7:30 they’re leaving Patrick's house and walking down the road to the cafe, the crisp fall air biting their cheeks. “So how was work yesterday, a lot of tourists?” Patrick asks striking up a conversation. “About a handful, not much. This girl Marie gave me her number.” He says with a fist pump. “Nice.” Patrick offers him a small smile. Passing a few familiar faces along the way, they finally get to the cafe and start up for the day.

Only being merely an hour, keeping up with customers was already a pain in the ass. At times when being confronted with the annoying arrogance of hipsters, to the mom who had too many kids and practically runs on caffeine, to the occasionally snappy, know-it-all business man/woman, Patrick truly hated being a barista. This line up of customers made up most of his mornings, including this one. “Yes Ma’am, I’ll get you a drink carrier,” he say to the wounded, uptight woman in front of him on the other side of the counter. The morning rush had cleared out, and things were slowing down. But, there’s always that one straggler, that physically hurts to even try to put on the fake smile to their asshole personality, this woman happened to be that particular customer. Squatting down, to rummage underneath the counter for a drink carrier and managing to successfully find one, putting on the counter while semi-organizing the supplies underneath. “Joe, we need more drink carriers,” he calls over to Joe managing the other counter. “They’re in the back,” Joe says. The god-awful woman finally pays, a weight off of Patrick’s shoulders. He not so much as glances at the next customer before putting them off to get a new package of drink carriers from the back. “I’ll be right with you,” Patrick says, dismissing the customer and heading towards the back. The customer, some asshole talking on the phone, slightly acknowledges Patrick’s message, simply nods before returning to babbling about some useless topic on the phone.

Walking through the swinging doors, he takes the cartridges from an open box labeled “drink carriers”. He exchanges glances with Joe, who’s raising his eyebrows, eyes motioning towards the register. Having no clue as to what Joe’s trying to tell him, he goes back to the cash register. He put the cartridges in their rightful place and look up at the customer, waiting. Patrick suddenly sees what Joe was trying to tell him. The man was, well, attractive. He had scruffy black, hair clearly dyed many times and a bit of stubble to match. He had a toothy smile and the corners of his whiskey brown eyes crinkle when he smiles. He was what Joe had identified, as Patrick’s “type.” Joe has set himself on trying to find Patrick a date since they started shifting together. Every so often, he’d like to point out attractive or decent looking customers, which to Patrick’s dismay; he found exasperating and mildly embarrassing. “Yeah okay, I’ll get you something. I got to go, the cute barista’s waiting for me to order.” The man grins smugly. The heat rushes to Patrick’s cheeks, and he can already feel that conversation is going to have him acting like an idiot. Normally, he wouldn’t pay this much attention to meaningless customer flirting, but it was, somehow, different this time. Does Patrick actually have a shot with- What is he thinking? He snaps back to reality, realizing that he’s spent a good minute or two gaping. “I-I-um, I’m so sorry, I- What can I get you?” He recuperates, failing miserably at trying not to be awkward by what just happened. “Can I get your number, because I like you a latte.” The guy says, a smile spreading on his face. Patrick willingly laughs at the line while simultaneously dying inside. “I’ll have two tall latte con pannas,” he says. “Sure thing, You got that Joe?” he looks to Joe for confirmation. “Yeah,” Joe confirms. “Can I get extra whip cream on one of those?” The corner of his mouth slowly twitches into a smirk. “Y-Yeah,” Patrick says, trying not to choke on his own words. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Pull yourself together, it’s fucking whip cream. He let Joe know to add the extra whip cream before seeing if he needs anything else. “Oh, and can I get one of those chocolate muffins behind you?” Offering a small smile and a nod, Patrick turns to grab the muffin in the display case behind him and puts it into a bag. “Anything else?” he asks. “No thanks. I have a question, did you sit in a pile of sugar?” The man asks. Patrick’s face once again heats up with embarrassment. “No? Did I-” he swiftly checks behind himself. “Cause you have a pretty sweet ass,” He says smirking, eyes fixated on Patrick's. “I-um-well, thanks?” Patrick shrugs sheepishly, and he feels like he’s going to explode. “I’ll go get your- uh- drinks.” He proceeds to smile sheepishly and goes to retrieve the drinks from Joe.

“Haha- Holy shit you look like a fucking tomato!” Joe manages to stifle most of his laughing. “Shut up or I will kill you in your sleep,” He says scowling at Joe. “Dude, hot guy, is so thirsty,” Joe whispers before bursting into laughter. “You know whatever, it’s just awkward flirting, he probably does this to everybody. Besides, he’s probably just trying to get in my pants. I don’t see why, but regardless…” He trails off into muttering. “Patrick, shut up. Go give the man his coffee and give it a try.” Joe says, placing the coffee in his hands. Patrick merely sighs and proceed back to the cash register. From the register, Joe gives him a wink, to which he shoot a death glare at. “Sorry that took so long,” he apologizes “That’ll be $8.35.” Patrick rings up the register. “Thank you. And um-listen, Patrick,” he continues momentarily glancing at my name tag, “I want to apologize for the lame-ass pickup lines. And embarrassing you. And being a dumbass with the flirting. You might be with someone and that must feel rea-” Patrick cuts his rambling off, with reassurance. “Hey! No! Don’t sweat it! I would’ve said something if I wasn’t cool with it. Besides, I’m kinda of a sucker for cheesy pickup lines.” A sheepish smile once again forming on Patrick's face. His face lights up again, and he smiles back. “Well, in that case, would you like to meet up sometime? I’ve got loads of cheesy pickup lines. I’m Pete by the way.” He grins even wider, if possible. “Tempting, Pete,” he laughs. “Sure, call me.” Patrick writes down his number on the paper baggie with a new surge of courage. “I gotta say, I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.” He winks, grabbing the coffee, paying, and walks out the door. He turns around to see Joe nodding satisfactorily with an amused smile on his face. “Don’t get your hopes up. I gave him my number; I don’t have his. Who knows if he’ll try to get ahold of me.” Patrick says, rolling my eyes at Joe. As if the universe itself was playing some kind of joke, his phone vibrates in response to Patrick’s uncertainty. “My work here is done.” Joe crosses his arms, proud of himself. “What work?” he sniggers. “Shut up, I did something, I helped,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “If that’s what helps you sleep tonight, Trohman,” he says, returning the smile. “Aren’t you going to see who texted you?” Joe raises an eyebrow. “I will...later, we’re almost off the clock anyway.” Patrick shrugs. “You suck, the anticipation is going to kill me more than it does you.” Joe groans. Patrick only chuckles and proceed to wipe down the surrounding counters for the next shift.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to change the point of view back to the third person; I felt it wasn't working and well yeah.


End file.
